𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 ;
pairing: tarzan!james x fem!reader (ft. researchers sirius & remus)
content: 18+MDNI dubious consent (reader is tied up), oral (f!receiving), p in v, overstimulation, loss of consciousness at the end.
a/n: it was so interesting and lowkey challenging to write smut in an au that doesn’t really allow for a lot of coherent dialogue especially bc i hc jamie as such a vocal guy so he grunts and moans and whimpers a lot in this :’) hope u enjoy!!
“A-Are you sure this is safe, Doctor?”
“You’ll be fine, Miss Y/n,” Dr. Lupin says, his eyes never once leaving the clipboard he’s studying. The jungle clearing is quiet except for the occasional scribble of his pen against the paper. And then there's your laboured breathing.
“This should hold alright, I reckon.” The raven haired doctor fiddles one final time with the rope securing you to the tree. His eyes flash to yours, and you could swear there’s a glint of dark amusement in his eyes. “Not too tight, I hope?”
“A-A little, Dr. Black.” It’s embarrassing how you can’t get a whole sentence out without stumbling over your words like a child, but to be fair to you they did just rip two orgasms out of you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath in between.
The rope is tight against your bare body, and it burns a little every time you shift in place. You know your complaint will go unanswered, you know better by now. Your role in this expedition is to look pretty and follow orders. Wake up, pour coffee, watch the fine doctors stare at your tits every time you talk instead of your face—that is your every day summed up.
The doctor hums indulgently, a knowing grin twitching at his lips. "Probably for the best, we don't know how strong the beast will be."
It is then that Dr. Lupin finally graces you with his attention, looking you over thoughtfully with furrowed brows and the end of the pen between his teeth. As he nears, you can’t help the way your body tenses in anticipation, an interesting reaction given the way your breath also falters and how your pussy begins to pulsate. When he’s finally standing in front of you he moves his hand clinically to your folds, swiping through them and humming like he's noticed something not up to his standards. “Reckon we should make her come one more time to make sure. Gotta leave her nice and wet for it to lure’im out.”
Before you can respond, Remus shoves two long fingers inside you, poking and prodding at the special place no one else before him had been able to reach. He doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t build up your orgasm or seem particularly preoccupied with your pleasure. His fingers crook and pick up speed while you mewl and gasp and try to bite back your desperate moans. When you search for his eyes you realize he still hasn't looked at your face not even once; instead, he’s keeping a watchful eye on the treeline, sneaking glances at his watch like you’re getting in the way of his schedule.
Soon enough, your back is arching uncomfortably against the bark of the tree, pussy walls clamping down around his long digits as your orgasm washes through and with it your last bit of energy. Watching you slump against the tree, Remus removes his fingers and wipes them coldly against your stomach—your shiny release glistening under the sun.
“It’s time,” you hear from behind you, but you can’t even gather enough energy to move your head and look at Sirius. Lucky for you, he moves in front of you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, lips pulled into an amused smirk. “Your contribution to this research will be rightfully noted, sweetheart.”
With a condescending tap to your cheek, he moves back and heads into the treeline—to a lookout spot, you suppose.
That leaves you with Remus, who turns to you after fetching his clipboard. “Make sure he releases inside you, if we don’t get to collect his seed we’ll just have to do it all over again.”
With that, he’s off, and you’re alone.
Looking back on it it didn't take long, but standing there tied to a tree, balanced uncomfortably on your tippy toes as the burning sun beats down on your skin, hot drops of sweat dripping down the back of your neck and between your tits, it certainly feels like forever.
You’re just starting to think maybe this was all in vain, that he isn't coming, when a rustle in the bush startles you out of your heat induced haze.
You’re not sure exactly what you expected, but wherever it was it definitely wasn't this. Even in a crouching position, with dark curls covering his eyes, you can tell he’s big, bulging arms and muscled thighs prowling cautiously out of the treeline. His head lifts, and then his eyes zero in on you. He might be the most beautiful specimen you’ve ever seen. Rough around the edges, dirt staining his tanned cheeks and a feral look in his dark eyes that makes your pussy squeeze around nothing. It’s scary, really, how wet and slick you feel yourself getting as the wild man straightens to his full heightand starts toward you—fuck he’s big.
There’s no point in talking, you know this, and yet you can’t help but try, eagerly searching for a hint of humanity in the beast of a man that now towers over you. “I— You—oh.”
Before you can stutter over any more words his nose is buried in the crook of your neck. He’s sniffing, like an animal, and the way he’s bent over you leaves your nose to brush against his muscled pec, allowing your lips to taste the salty sheen of his tanned skin.
The man grunts against your neck, an unsatisfied huff before he’s making his way down your body, nose poking at your skin like a dog searching for a treat. When he gets to the apex of your thighs, you know he’s hit the jackpot.
He growls a low rumble that spreads through his chest and tickles at the sensitive skin of your navel, and then his nose is buried in your folds, the slope of it bumping carelessly against your overstimulated clit, dragging a wounded whimper out of you.
The sound must call to something primal in him because it startles him away, dark curious eyes searching your own as his head tilts with an unspoken question. Your chest is heaving, body going into overdrive both at the pent up energy brewing inside you and the addicting fear that makes goosebumps cover your body as this strange man—perhaps more beast than man—gets but a breath away from your pulsating core.
His head tilts toward you again, only this time his eyes stay locked on yours as his nose bumps against your clit. The man’s brows twitch with interest when you mewl again. If he thinks you’re in pain he doesn't show it—or perhaps he simply doesn't care—because soon enough his massive paw of a hand is lifting your thigh, pressing it to your chest like it weighs nothing so as to spread your pussy wide open for his perusal.
“Wait! P-Please, slow d—”
His tongue is rough and brusque as it searches through your cunt, swiping through every crevice and fold slurping the sweet nectar that enticed him all the way from across the island. There’s something so sweet, so fucking addicting and hypnotizing about the way you taste, something he’s never encountered before that makes the thing between his legs stiffen and throb the longer he stays buried in your cunt. He mindlessly humps against the air as he feasts on you, ignoring all your pathetic cries for mercy, big hands wrestling your limbs still no matter how much you squirm and try to get away from his cruel tongue.
“Oh my god,” you sob, back arching uselessly against the rough bark of the tree while the beast between your legs searches for gold in your pussy. “Oh my god.”
It’s only after you’ve gushed into his mouth twice that he lets up, licking his way up your body to your tits—delivering a diligent suckle to your nipples—and then your face, his tongue smearing your essence all over your chin, spit dripping down your throat as he licks at your tears before delving into your mouth.
He’s clearly never kissed before, but there’s something primal that kicks into gear as his tongue licks into your mouth, he sucks and nips and kisses at every inch of your lips, thick thigh wrenching your legs apart so he can grind his growing cock against your cunt.
The second your hot wet skin meets his, it's him that lets out a wounded sound, and then his hips are rutting savagely against you, the mushroom tip of his cock sliding through your pussy lips and kissing at your clit with every thrust.
“Please,” you whimper, because even though you’re on fire, pussy rubbed raw after so many orgasms in a row, you can’t help but want, need, his cock inside you. “Inside. Please, I need you inside.”
His bulging arms cage you against the tree, to the point where all you can see is skin, glistening burning skin. Your hips buck, trying your hardest to catch his cock and slide it inside you, legs trying but failing miserably to wrap around his waist since all your strength has been eaten out of you.
It’s only when you growl in frustration that he pulls away to look at you. His hips are still going, but there’s a curious look on his flushed face, dark curls matted to his forehead which he presses painfully against yours.
“Inside,” you whisper, holding his gaze hoping he’ll understand. Your hips buck again and he groans. “Inside.”
The clueless expression on his face makes you sob, body slumping in defeat at the realization you’ll remain empty for the rest of the encounter. The thought brings more tears to your eyes.
The broken look on your face stirs something inside him, an instinct to protect you perhaps, to make whatever is ailing you go away, so his eyes trail down your body, searching for a wound or whatever can explain your pain. He zeroes in on the rope, which by now is digging painfully into your skin, leaving irritated burns behind every time it shifts. Without a second thought he pulls at it, glaring angrily at it when it doesn't budge and only makes you whimper more.
With fierce determination he pulls away and turns back to the trees and the sight makes your knees buckle, a heartbroken wail ripping out of your chest. You notice him flinch at the sound, but the emptiness inside your pussy is too overwhelming to care, the thought that he’s leaving you like this, worked up and unsatisfied, heightens the mindbreak that’s been building since your superiors laid out the experiment to you.
You watch with anguish as he disappears behind the treeline, your whole body shaking with need and disappointment as the last bit of him vanishes into the bush.
Thankfully, it's not long before he's back, this time with a weapon in hand. It’s a rock that’s been sharpened into a knife of sorts, and before you can work up a question—a useless one since he can’t seem to understand you—he’s slicing through the ropes tying you to the tree and all you can do is slump down, caught mercifully by his strong arms when your legs give out.
Just like that, he’s laying you down on the grass, nose back in the crook of your neck as he kisses and licks, almost like he’s reassuring you that you're okay. He looks at you with a question on his face, and all you manage is a clumsy nod and a moan before your trembling hand is reaching between your bodies and wrapping around his throbbing cock.
His hips stutter, broken moans being sung against your skin as he bucks and ruts against you like a wild animal. It takes a moment, your pussy too wet and slippery for it to properly slide in, but eventually you manage, and the second his thick length is buried in your warmth you both let out a symphony of moans that echo through the jungle.
The man grunts and growls as he thrusts into you, drops of sweat dripping down and sticking to your heated flesh as he wrestles your legs to your chest so your ankles are over his shoulders. It hurts, but it’s so good, so deep and deliriously overwhelming, that you’re not sure whether you're crying or laughing. You know in that moment, you will be ruined for any other man after him.
When he comes, it’s like he’s been saving every drop he’s been denied all these years just for you. It spills and spills, filling you up and leaking out of your pussy even as he keeps rutting and grinding against you. He whimpers at the overstimulation but refuses to pull out, settling for slumping down on top of you, face in your neck and hands tangled in your hair. His cock throbs inside you as his breath evens out, little puffs of air tickling your skin as he slowly falls asleep on top of you.
You feel sticky, every inch of skin covered in slick, both his and yours, but you have never felt so blissful, so utterly devoured and satisfied. And just as you feel yourself slowly lulled into a sleep of your own, you hear the crunch of leaves as two sets of footsteps approach. The last thing you hear before the darkness overtakes you is an amused, condescending chuckle and the scratch of a pen against paper.
“Always the overachiever.”